


A Minute

by baconandtoast, lordkrisdemort



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconandtoast/pseuds/baconandtoast, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordkrisdemort/pseuds/lordkrisdemort
Summary: A minute was how long it took for Baekhyun and Chanyeol's lives to shatter into pieces. A minute was how long it took for them to meet each other's eyes. But maybe it'll take longer than that for them to finally see each other.





	1. Prologue

 

The sky was lilac.

 

The buildings were in shades of gray. The slippers that wrapped around his feet were black. The pair of jeans he was wearing was tattered blue. The tip of his toes were almost white. The cement ground beneath him was dull gray.

 

The wind that swirled around the rooftop was cold.

 

The emptiness that gnawed inside his chest was painful.

 

He wondered if today was the day.

 

He dwelled with the thoughts. The possibilities. The consequences that he’d have to bear. The aftermath he’d miss out. He’d been through this process of thinking for lots of times. He’d already estimated everything. Who would be left behind. Who would miss him for a while before they start to forget him. Who would not even care.

 

But then small bulbs started to light up inside his head. He was supposed to be busy today. Jongdae said they need to experiment with the new type of pastry for the cafe today at noon. He had a beginner class to teach at the dance academy at six in the evening; what a perfect excuse to skip dinner. And he had promised Baekbeom he’d visit him later at night.

 

_ Oh _ .

 

So today wasn’t the day.

 

He stepped backwards from the railings of the rooftop. The wind was still harsh, as if it was trying to help him tumble down. But he stayed still. Unmoving. Numb. He walked towards the door that would lead to the stairs. In the end, his cowardice won.

 

It was not the time, yet.

 

Today was not the day.

  
  
  
  


The room was silent.

 

Big palms gripped the small photo frame, smiling at the warmth of nostalgia. Tears rolled down the curves of the bones on a weak face, screaming through the static silence as they hit the floor. The scent of cinnamon wafted, small waves of heat pooling around the candles. The smile melted with the wax and the frame slipped from his grip, sliding down the wall to sit atop a wooden shelf.

 

Two pairs of identical shoes slouched in the corner, teary eyes contemplating whether to reach out for them.

 

Whether to leave.

 

He’d made a promise a long time ago, one which he could never forget. But the pain of remembering was too much to bear. If he left, memories would flood back, but if he didn’t, he would hurt himself with the endless guilt that haunted him everyday. And today was the day that the pain would swell more than any other day of the year.

 

Maybe he could leave. Forever.

 

The candles were bright, as bright as the will to give up flared in him. To give up once and for all. To let go of the pain.

 

But in the end, the very flame that almost urged him to give up, reminded him of a smile. A hopeful smile that he would forever reminisce. And the small sweet promise that he thought he could never fulfill.

 

_ You’re still here, they say. You’re everywhere. I guess your promise counts then. _

 

The shoes hugged his feet, and he stepped out of the room. The wind was harsh, but not harsh enough to knock him over. With the flame of warmth, the warmth of a smile, the smile in a promise, his body guided him to where he needed to go. The address Yixing had sent him before, memorized.

 

_ Beginner Class, 6PM, Penumbra Dance Academy _

 


	2. Continor

 

Everything starts with a meeting.

 

Two people meet each other, and from that point, the memories of them together start to appear, happen, accumulate.

 

They keep making memories together, be it happy or sad, with the hope that in the end, it will all worth it. They also hope to never part, or at least, if they ever have to, in good terms.

 

Then what about the memories that got cut off because the two people had to be separated forcefully?

 

What if one of them has to leave out of sudden?

 

That’s when everyone is wrong, or is lacking consideration and anticipation for.

 

Because not every start has a good, prepared, inevitable end.

 

Sometimes, the end comes like a thief barging into your house in the middle of the night.

 

Thus, Baekhyun hated it.

 

He resented encounters, for he dreaded the farewell.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Baek, the coconut doesn’t taste so good, does it?” Jongdae was munching on a slice of his own, gobbling down even as he complained.

 

“I’d say a hint of more coconut, don’t you think?” Baekhyun wasn’t in the mood, but still spoke for the sake of fueling his friend’s thinking. He knew that even though he was selected to do the weekly taste tests for new pastries, Jongdae would end up wording out his thoughts and adjusting them on his own.

 

He had a handful of thoughts of his own which he wanted to drown himself into, after all.

 

But before he could disappear under the water, he heard Jongdae’s voice again. “It’s 5:50 Baek.”

 

“Hm?” he spontaneously glanced on his wrist watch. “Oh, yeah. See you later then.” he murmured as his hands reached towards his back and started to untie the straps of his apron.

 

But then Jongdae replied to him. “See you _tomorrow night at the competition,_ you mean.”

 

It made him still for a moment.

 

“You don’t need to come.” he mumbled, suppressing down the sudden anger that was bubbling in his chest. Maybe it wasn’t really anger; irritation would sound more appropriate. “I didn’t even intend on taking part either-”

 

“You’re getting late Baek.” Jongdae cut him off, voice gentle yet still irritating to him.

 

Baekhyun never liked it, how Jongdae always cut off his words whenever he got too worked up about something. But he also thought that maybe it was for the best. It prevented him from saying words that didn’t sound like him, ones that he would regret later. So he just glanced at his wrist watch with a soft sigh. “Right.” he murmured, taking off the apron that had lost its actual function ever since he stopped taking part in the pastry baking process many months ago. He threw it onto the marbled surface of the counter, next to a batch of pastry Jongdae had baked. “See you.” he said curtly.

 

With his bag hanging on his right shoulder and his jacket in his left arm, Baekhyun was ready to open the door to the kitchen, but he stopped when Jongdae called for him.

 

“Be careful.” Jongdae simply said, the coconut pastry still in between his index finger and thumb, smearing oil and crumbs on the pads.

 

Baekhyun stared back at his friend with a frown.

 

“Just caring about you, mean ass.”

 

He softened at that. His mood hadn’t been the best that day, and it had blinded him from understanding that Jongdae was actually just caring for him. “Thanks.” he said with a tiny smile; the best one he could muster up. “Tell Minseok I’ll go with him tomorrow.”

 

“Ah, he’s looking for the new coffee machine, huh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Baekhyun left the cafe.

 

* * *

 

A pair of big feet stopped in front of the small building, a pair of glazed eyes gazing on it up and down until they fell on the sign hanging from halfway up the building. The door opened smoothly with a _swoosh_ , and the clumsy feet found their way into the narrow and completely monochrome hallways until they stopped at the dead end. A small door decorated the plain looking walls, dim orange lights shining through the tiny window in the center.

 

When the hands reached to open the door, a loud creak broke the cacophony of mutters erupting through the room, which was much larger than he had expected. Several heads expectantly turned to the door, only to turn away just a second after, seemingly uninterested in the figure hunching in the small space.

 

The feet stayed frozen, just like they had many times before when nervousness coursed through the body. There were people laying on the floor, some tightening their shoes, almost all wearing similar attire to the figure still taking in the appearance of the others; loose shirts and slightly tighter shorts hanging by their bodies.

 

A finger prodded the figure, faint intrusion to the anxious thoughts. The taller body turned to face the significantly smaller yet elegant one.

 

“Do you mind?”

 

Without a word, the figure mechanically stepped to the side, allowing the man to enter with a cold stare and blank emotion. The bodies in the room sprung up, dusting off the non existent dirt from their clothes and absentmindedly fumbling, eyes sparkling with anticipation and excitement.

 

Completely opposite to what the man they were excited for gave off.

 

“This is the beginner’s contemporary class. You look lost.”

 

The tall body noticed the cold eyes staring directly into his, knees slightly buckling at the sight.

 

“I- I guess I’m here.”

 

The eyes left his and focused on opening his bag.

 

“Alright, Ji-Eun?”

 

“Here!”

 

Small hands shot up at their names, the man indifferently flicking his wrist against a paper, his fingers elegantly wrapped around his pen. The tall figure grew a liking for the slender fingers, only noticing after a while that they were trembling.

 

“And, Chanyeol?” The man’s eyes left the paper for the first time during those 2 minutes, searching the room.

 

“Here.”

 

Their eyes met again.

 

“I’m Baekhyun.”

 

His eyes were still cold, looking almost numb. His voice was monotonous and sort of automated, like the introduction was mandatory, a mere part of his job description.

 

“Okay, that’s everyone.”

 

Before Chanyeol could speak, everyone slowly retreated into the corners, leaving ample space in the middle of the room. He hurriedly followed, watching over his shoulder as the man stepped to the speakers on the table, pressing a button to make the almost inaudible music sift through his ears. When he turned to give his full attention to Baekhyun, a girl to his left pulled his shoulder, suddenly bending down to listen to her.

 

“He does this when there’re newbies. He always does a different routine, but it’s always stunning. You’ll see.”

 

The music grew louder and Baekhyun’s eyes dropped close. His arms seemed to sway, his hips moving slightly with the beat. His eyebrows drew closer, almost as if he couldn’t quite hear the music, as if deciphering its hidden meaning.

 

His eyes shot open.

 

His eyes held emotion.

 

And then, he danced.

 

Everything about him was beautiful yet tragic, concocted to brew the hurt in his perfection. His arms flew and collapsed, his body twirled and froze, his eyes lit up and crumbled.

 

With every motion Baekhyun made, with every twitch of his lips, Chanyeol could see the happiness, but could also see where the happiness would melt away. His alluring fingers grasped some emotion, clutching onto it with hope, only to swing down unsuccessfully. Even though Baekhyun merely clutched at the air and smiled, Chanyeol saw it as hope for something he didn’t have. When Baekhyun’s smile vanished and his eyes shone with pain, Chanyeol’s heart dropped. That small movement showed so much more than naked eyes saw it for. All of it sculpted a form of beauty Chanyeol never knew was possible.

 

The piano grew loud and aggressive, the player banging on the keys. Baekhyun’s body grew completely fluid, and the contrast was painfully satisfying.

 

All the pain that Baekhyun made the spectators feel was eating pieces of Chanyeol away, but it excited him.

 

When the music stopped, indicating the end of the routine, it was Chanyeol who hungered for more.

 

Baekhyun closed his eyes, as he did when he had begun.

 

This time, when he opened his eyes, they were blurred and empty again.

 

“Welcome.”

 

* * *

 

People were walking out of the door into the white hallways, Chanyeol taking time to catch his breath.

 

“Yeah, tomorrow night. I’m starting at 9, so you can handle the second batch.”

 

The voice was dull but it caught Chanyeol’s attention.

 

“Need something?” Baekhyun had turned away from the girl, looking over at him with tired eyes. “No, just something in my shoe.” He heard a chuckle, but emotionless and forced, deciding to exit before anxiety got the best of him.

 

When he turned a corner in the hallway, he spotted a bright poster with big bold letters swirled around the top.

 

_Penumbra Dance Academy, Annual Dance Recital_

 

When he saw Baekhyun’s name in the bottom left corner, part of a duo performing against another, he presumed it was a competition. Which meant he could see Baekhyun dance again before the upcoming week.

 

He was more than willing to.

 

He continued slowly down the hallway, till the cold breeze swept his hair across his face, taking in all the moments of the day. He was curious to see how Baekhyun would be with his partner, if he still showed real feelings, that seemed to disappear every time his routines would end. But most of all, the way Baekhyun’s body moved was entrancing, and Chanyeol wanted to watch him dance forever and ever.

 

To think he’d only spent an hour and a half with Baekhyun, and he was already -

 

Already what?

 

What should he name this bewildering feeling with?

 

How could his eyes affect his mind so severely like this?

 

Maybe it was a little bit rash of him, to be feeling such things. Maybe he was too captivated with the beauty that dripped from Baekhyun’s fingertips when he reached for something nonexistent in the air. It was something he had never seen before, and it’s human’s nature to either be drawn to or scared of something new.

 

The streetlamps shone down the cemented surface of the sidewalk. His shoes made a faint screeching sound as he walked; it was his habit to drag his heels at each step he took. The coldness of the night air was quite ruthless, although it didn’t affect the strange warmth that was still flickering inside his chest. It wasn’t the type of warmth that he was comfortable with. It was blazed by something.

 

Curiosity.

 

He blamed it on the curiosity.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Baek, this looks perfect. I feel like she won’t break down as quickly as old Betty.” Minseok patted a small machine, catching his eye as it stood among the thousands of others.

 

Baekhyun spared a glance at the coffee machine, standing out among the rest of its kind proudly. Polished metal and various features. No wonder why Minseok fell for it. “It’s just coffee Seok, I think we’ll be fine with any of these.” Earning an exaggerated scoff, he smiled a little to himself, turning away to hide it.

 

It wasn’t that easy for him to stretch his lips in that way; it seemed rather foreign now. The only way his lips would give in to the rare urge was through dancing. It was automatic and natural, and the only way he could possibly fully portray his emotions, which was extremely important in the criterions of competitive dancing.

 

To say the least, he hadn’t always been competitive. But when he found the thrill of dancing in front of a number of audience and earning screams of endearment, he got drunk. Drunk in the small talks of _‘you are amazing, you have to tell me where you learnt that,_ ’ or the excited waves he got from some random ladies standing on the other side of the tram, or the hugs and then shrieks of ‘ _he’s so beautiful!_ ’ He would immerse himself into his routines, sprouting fake smiles or frowns when he wasn’t at his best. Even though he competed less, the spectators during his occasional routines at friends’ classes were enough to deal with for a week. Ever since, he had mastered the act of feigning _feelings_.

 

But, during the last class, there was this form of temptation to lose himself and give the routine his all. To put every part of his body and soul into each turn and twist, pouring out the emotions he never knew he felt, could feel, would feel again. He wanted to impress the newbie, for what reason, he did not know. Even so, the things he felt when he danced that day were much more than he had ever felt for the past few years. He found something interesting about the lanky guy, clumsily moving to the beat but trying his best. It reminded him of himself years ago when-

 

“Baek! You said you were ready to leave and now- _oh my god she’s beautiful_.” A loud set of footsteps, a small nudge in the ribs and Baekhyun was pushed to one side as Minseok almost drooled as he eyed the new coffee machine. He dropped his thoughts, going back to roaming aimlessly along the shelves. Minseok inspected the machine in awe, tracing his fingers over it until he saw Baekhyun looking at the shelf differently, detached and distant. His eyes looked dark, almost sad. It wasn’t until he saw his eyes glaze slightly that he spoke up.

 

“You okay?” The sound reached Baekhyun’s ears a few seconds late, then he nodded and slowly turned his head away again.

 

Minseok saw how Baekhyun absentmindedly smiled, shocking him. But it wasn’t the nostalgic one where his lips would twitch at the edges and then the happiness would wash off. This smile was more of presently pleased, nostalgia eventually showing on his face and making his eyes drip.

 

What was it that made him happy in the past week?

 

Or was it a person?

 

“Baek, you have the money from the earnings, wanna help a brother out?” His movements were sluggish again, but Minseok wasn’t going to give up, ready to figure out what it was that made Baekhyun smile after such a long time.

 

“How was the class? Still as slow as before?” Baekhyun wore his polished, fake smile, barely reaching his eyes, face as pale as it was uninterested. Unengaged with the talk. He wasn’t even trying.

 

“Any newbies?” At that, the smile faltered.

 

_So there is someone._

 

“Seok, you have to pay.” he murmured. Minseok turned to the cashier, handing a bunch of notes to her and not bothering to check on them after, ignoring the amused look she gave to them.

 

“So, how are the newbies doing? Anyone impressive yet?”

 

“All of them are still beginners, some are fast and some are slow. They have their own pace.” Minseok shook his head.

 

“You have to wait to see the real ones. Some of them are gonna miss practice, turn up late, just copy the steps, put no feelings and follow instructions. But then, some of them are gonna stay after class to make up for the time they missed, feel their way when they dance, they’re gonna put everything on the line to get that one step right. They don’t naturally go at their own pace Baek, in a way, they choose to do so.”

 

Minseok simply smiled, Baekhyun slowing down to ponder over his words. It was silent for the rest of the way home, Minseok deciding not to press the other, tired and hungry himself.

 

“You gonna come by the shop tomorrow?” Baekhyun walked in his apartment building, stopping at the door to look back at the man struggling to hold the rather large box in his arms, on the verge of toppling over quite a few times but Minseok jumping and pulling it close again.

 

“Can’t, I’ll be practicing.”

 

Minseok gave an encouraging smile, trying and failing to wave at Baekhyun as the box slipped from his arms again. “I’m going to break this before I even get there. Anyways, see you tomorrow night!”

 

Baekhyun wasn’t very keen on his friends coming to see him, but he didn’t mind either. After all, once he’d begin the performance, everything except the stage would disappear. Maybe it wasn’t bad that there would be two more people in the audience.

 

Like he would with anything that required more thinking, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, opening the front door. Not minding how his socks were wet, he walked into the kitchen to go over his steps and then get into bed.

 

He wasn’t hungry, thirsty, sad, happy, hot, cold.

 

He just wanted to close his eyes and leave. Even if it was for a few hours.

 

* * *

 

Chanyeol awoke to the shrill sound of his alarm, ringing continuously in his ear. Groaning, he turned to the side and let his hand fall on top of his phone. A few more minutes and he was blindly running into all the doors and walls on the way to the bathroom.

 

He liked warm showers in the morning, they made him feel calm yet alive. Cold water was just annoying and hit his skin, somewhat like bullets. Once he stepped out with a towel hanging around his waist, he lazily dragged his feet into the kitchen, cracking some eggs and watching them sizzle in the pan.

 

“Alexa, play Cry To Me by Solomon Burke.” the small speaker shone a small ring of light, spoke in its monotonous voice, and soon, a small tune began playing. With a whine of discontent, he skipped to the speaker, increasing the volume and humming along. A deep voice resonated through the kitchen, Chanyeol’s body swayed off beat, eyes closed and head bobbing. He tried imitating the spins he’d seen Baekhyun doing, falling to the side and knocking over the pan.

 

Instead of groaning for what would’ve been the 20th time that day, he picked the pan up, singing along and flipping the omelette one too many times. He dropped it onto his plate and sung along as he walked back out.

 

All the while the only thought coursing his mind being that he would see Baekhyun that night.

 

* * *

 

 

The scent of the satin curtains flooded the crowded rooms. People rushed in and out, glitter decorating their eyelids as nervousness pumped blood to their cheeks. Baekhyun was used to the atmosphere, but now it made him nauseous. He struggled to breathe because everything was overwhelming. He had clearly disagreed when asked around a few months ago, he didn't know why he suddenly blurted a yes afterwards. The students were all starry eyed and pouty, disgustingly cute. Maybe it was their expectation that caused him to give in.

 

His head swirled and pain rose underneath his skin, aching as he shuffled to stand right at the edge of the stage. Faint rays of the bright lights sliced through the curtains and managed to light his partner’s hands, poking out slightly as he stood next to Baekhyun. He noticed how his eyes were dark, anticipation and excitement flowing out of them in tangible waves. Baekhyun only trembled when the other wished him luck, but managed to cover it up, giving a weak grunt in reply.

 

Chanyeol’s hair stood out on all sides, a messy mop plopped onto his head. He wanted to look sleek, but his damned sleeping schedule told him otherwise. He managed to stumble in just on time to hear the remains of what seemed ‘Baekhyun.’ Deciding to stand behind the last row, he hit his hip on the hard edge of a seat. “Fuck you,” immediately covering his mouth with his large paw, eyes wide and cautiously scanning the nearby people to see if they had noticed his tiny outburst.

 

A loud beginning of ridiculously fast paced piano caught his attention and his fluffy hair bounced back as his head shot up. The spotlight grew brighter, focusing on a pair nestled in each other’s arms in the center of the stage. It seemed comfortable, all until the larger man broke away, striding to the other side of the stage to completely reveal a smaller man’s figure slouched on the ground. His face tilted up to show his glistened eyes.

 

_Is Baekhyun-_

 

Tears rolled down, his body weakly standing up. Chanyeol’s fists clenched at his sides, holding in the urge to walk onto the stage and scoop him up in his arms. To whisper anything to make him stop. It was painful and it had only begun.

 

Baekhyun walked to the other man, stretching his arms to grip the other’s wrist, as if begging for him to stop. The man only snatched his arm away and feigned a frown, turning to hook his fingers in Baekhyun waist and push him back, but with poise. Baekhyun’s face scrunched up, eyebrows dragging together. Unlike his partner’s movements, Baekhyun’s movements looked so _real_.

 

The piano softened and it was nearing the end, Baekhyun spinning and landing in his partner’s arms. He looked weak and vulnerable, wrapping an arm around the other’s neck to bring their foreheads closer to each other. Chanyeol’s heart ached, dull but noticeable, at the gesture. It was partly because of the closeness of the two men onstage, and partly because of how utterly broken Baekhyun looked, the former of which Chanyeol refused to admit.

 

When the crowd around him rose to their feet, the cacophony of screams and clapping shaking him out of his daze, he clapped distractedly, trying his best to focus on Baekhyun’s eyes. Even from afar, he could see the sadness wash away, his lips painfully curving up. Chanyeol knew it would happen, he was even merely fascinated by the way he could physically witness emotion pouring away like liquid out of Baekhyun’s limbs. But his eyes were what caught his attention most.

 

Said pair of eyes came to focus on Chanyeol’s, staring at him with vague interest. Something completely unexpected but welcomed, Chanyeol smiling back. Receiving nothing in return, he tried to draw back his smile. But he couldn’t. Instead, his lips defied him, giving way to one of his toothy grins.

 

But Baekhyun didn’t know that, for he had already turned away.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
